Night Comes On
by AstroGirl
Summary: Stark finds Zhaan.


**Night Comes On  
by AstroGirl**

(**Note**: all lyrics are from "Night Comes On" by Leonard Cohen)

_Now I look for her always  
I'm lost in this calling  
I'm tied to the threads of some prayer  
Saying, When will she summon me?  
When will she come to me?  
What must I do to prepare?_

* * *

He wanders the streets of Valldon, maskless, open to its energies. A hundred thousand deaths, a million mystic whispers twine and crawl and flutter through his mind, and among them all he desperately seeks one presence, one voice that seems always just on the edge of his perception.

He seeks out sacred places and the advice of mystics more powerful, and often less sane, than himself. He takes drugs that leave him blinded and twitching and so open that he senses deaths a galaxy away. But she does not come, and her voice is nothing but the echo of an echo.

He holds tightly to the ghosts of her memories in his mind, caressing them longingly in the night, begging them to show him what it is he needs to do to be worthy of her. But they are silent, too, and in the end he is left with nothing but love and prayer.

* * *

_When she bends to my longing  
Like a willow, like a fountain  
She stands in the luminous air  
And the night comes on  
It's very calm  
I lie in her arms. She says, When I'm gone  
I'll be yours, yours for a song._

* * *

And when he has nothing left but love and prayer, she comes to him. No meditations, no rituals, no drugs. He simply turns and she is there, transforming the dank, graffiti-scrawled darkness of his room into something luminous, the divine energy of the Other Side manifested in corporeal light.

"My Stark," she says, and offers her arms, holding herself open to his touch.

He melts against her body, as real as his, if not precisely flesh, and she embraces him with that flowing supple strength he knows so well and never well enough. "My poor, precious Stark."

For a while, he doesn't speak, doesn't need to or is afraid to, and she holds him, letting his tears wet her shoulder and the desperate, broken tangle of his emotions touch her mind.

And then, because he has to ask, because he spent all these long, dark days in this place only so he could ask, he lifts his face and says, "Why have you come back? What... Zhaan, what did you want to tell me?"

She strokes his hair, uncut for monens, and smiles gently. "Dear Stark. Don't you understand? It was not I who came to you." Her hand moves from his hair to his cheek, warm against his flesh. "It was you who summoned me."

A flash of hope surges through him, and he echoes her gesture, raising a hand to her face. "Then... If I summoned you, if I brought you here... Then I can keep you?"

But she shakes her head, love and sadness shaping her features as they move beneath his hand. "You know better than that, my love. I am no longer a part of this realm." She kisses him softly, her mouth tasting of light. "But when you call me, I will always be here." She touches the top of his head. "And here." She caresses his mask. "And here." Her hand moves lower, and settles over his heart.

* * *

_And the night comes on  
It's very calm  
I want to cross over, I want to go home  
But she says, Go back, go back to the World_

* * *

"No." His voice is a broken whisper. "No." But in his heart, his mind, his energy, he can feel the truth.

He holds her again, tighter, and in that moment he knows there's another answer. He can melt into her, into her light, her love, her death. They can be together forever, and there will be no more longing, no more pain, no burden of living without her. "Zhaan," he says, his face bathed in light, in clarity, in rapture, as he prepares to slip the bonds of his corporeal form.

"Stark. Stark! _ Stykera!_" Her voice, no less loving, is commanding and strong, and the shock of it stops him before he's truly begun.

"But, Zhaan. Don't you see? Don't you see?" His hands trace the outlines of her face, as if knowing this will be his last chance to memorize them. "We can be together. It's the easiest answer!"

Compassion softens her eyes, and she brings her forehead to rest against his. "Sweet Stark," she whispers. "How many correct solutions are easy?" Her thumb brushes his cheek. "I have lived out my cycles in the physical realm, but yours are far from done, and you have much living to do before your time comes to join me. So much awaits you, Stark. So many wonderful things." She kisses his forehead, where the flesh and metal meet. "You must trust me. You must _live_."

"Without you?" His voice is an anguished whisper.

"You are never without me. You know that."

She pulls back from him a little and stares at him until he nods his understanding. Then she kisses him again and, as suddenly as she came, she is gone. But he can still feel her, inside him, beyond him, waiting on the Other Side.

He stands up, shaking but straight, smooths his clothing and adjusts the straps on his mask.

And he goes back out into the world. And lives. 


End file.
